Right
by ronspoiledeverything
Summary: The only thing I know about Harry Potter is that he is dead. And the only reason he is dead is because of Lord Voldemort.  The only thing I know about Lord Voldemort is that he almost killed my father.      And the only thing I know about my father is tha
1. History of Magic Essay

The only thing I know about Harry Potter is that he is dead. And the only reason he is dead is because of Lord Voldemort.

The only thing I know about Lord Voldemort is that he almost killed my father.

And the only thing I know about my father is that he left us.

So when old Professor Binns assigned us a five foot essay on Harry Potter, I immediately awoke from my usual History-Of-Magic slumber.

"I am sure-" The ghost said, tiresome and slow. "that most of you could gain some valuable information from your parents, most of who were at school with Mr. Potter. I know that your parents, Miss Weasley-"

He pointed a translucent finger at me.

"-your parents were quite good friends with Harry Potter...yes..."

Professor Binns then preceded to fall back through his desk and into his armchair, asleep.

The class was silent for a moment until my cousin Simone stood up. Simone was the envy of every third year girl. She was extremely beautiful, but it was often hard to find her beauty under her pink streaked hair and excessive jewelry. But what we most envied was her comfort and confidence even in front of large crowds. Like now. She jumped to Binns' desk with an energetic hop and picked up the scroll of parchment lying there.

"Right. Looks like he wants us to pair up for the essay...Shiva, your with Longbottom, and Hooper is with Creevey. Sloper, your with MacMillan, I'm with McLaggen and Weasley your with Finnegan." she finished, staring at me.

"Wisteria. That's you." she told me clearly, so that the whole class giggled.

"Right." I said. "Wait, who?"

"Finnegan." she said, jerking her thumb behind her. I looked to see a brown haired boy staring back at me. He was thin and looked to be tall, and his desk was littered with many sheets of paper. Embarrassed, I waved at him and quickly turned around. There was a minute of awkward silence, as Simone sat down and we had nothing to talk about. Saved by the bell, I ran out, my heavy book bag flying behind me. To say the least, this was a bad idea, because within seconds I heard, or rather felt a thump as my bag hit someone walking behind me.

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry!" I said. With a jump in my throat I realized it was Finnegan. With another jump I realized I didn't know his first name.

His stack of loose papers had flown to the ground in a scattered pile. I bent down and started to gather them up, but he seemed very protective of them and grabbed them all before I could help.

"Sorry..." I said.

"It's fine," he said. "Really. Well, about that essay, we probably should..."

"Yeah we probably should start on it. How about-?"

"The library?" he interrupted, glancing at his wristwatch.

"Yeah." I said hastily, straightening my glasses. "The library, after lunch."

"All right then." he nodded.

"Okay, bye erm..."

"Eamon." he said.

"Right! Eamon. Bye Eamon."

He began to walk away, when I turned around and shouted:

"I'm Wisteria."

"I know." he called back.

"Right." I said blushing, and quickly hurried off to potions.

After lunch, I hurried off to the library to meet Eamon Finnegan. I was so nervous, because I had to work with someone I didn't know, that I totally forgot what we were supposed to be writing about. He arrived five minutes later, a stack of books and parchment in his hands.

"Hi." I said. He looked at me and dropped the stack of books on the table.

"Those are all the books that Madame Hurst has on Harry Potter," he said plainly, "We should probably get to work."

"Right." I said, and grabbed the book closest to me. I wasn't sure I liked Eamon Finnegan.

The book stated, in rather boring terms, that Harry Potter attended Hogwarts School until his seventh year. He then preceded to defeat the Dark Lord Voldemort and was killed in the process.

"There are absolutely no details in this book." I complained ten minutes later.

"I agree. There's nothing here we don't already know. Are there any old newpapers around here?" he said, looking around. I knew where they were and so I went over and retrieved a Daily Prophet from 1997.

Eamon snatched it from my hands and began to skim the articles. For five minutes I watched him, his eyes darting back and forth across the page.

"Nope." he said. "There is no mention of Harry Potter anywhere in here."

I wasn't listening. I was day-dreaming, thinking of my father, and how Binns' said that my parents knew Harry Potter. How did that old ghost even know Ronald Weasley was my father? It was probably my appearance, I decided. It wasn't exactly a secret that I didn't look a thing like my mother.

"Hey, Wisteria." Eamon said.

I came out of my trance.

"Wha?" I said quickly.

"Binns said that your parents knew him." he said.

"Who?"

"Harry Potter!"

"Oh." I said, nervously, "Well, yeah I guess they did bu-"

"My parents knew him to." he said.

"...really? Well, we should ask them then." I said, hoping not to get my parents involved.

"Well, that's kind of what I was thinking. Instead of combing through these books all day lets just interview our parents." he said not meeting my eyes.

"Erm...sure. I guess that works."

I knew that wasn't going to work, but what could I say?

"Okay then." Eamon said cheerfully. "Write to your parents and get the information. Let's meet back here on Friday and see what you've got, okay?"

I sighed. "Okay."

"Good." He said. Then he smiled at me and left.

I really didn't have any intention of asking my mother about Harry Potter, and I most certainly didn't have any intention of meeting up with my father for the sake of a stupid essay. Nope, Eamon Finnegan can go ahead and do that himself, I will not-

"Miss Weasley?" It was Mrs. Hurst, the librarian.

"Huh?" I spun around.

"Don't you have a class?" she asked me. I looked at my watch. Sure enough, I was seven minutes late for Divination. Great.

"Yeah...Divination." I stood staring at her.

"Well, run along." she told me.

"Right." I said, grabbing my bag and flying out the door, hitting Mrs. Hurst with it as I flew past her.


	2. Christmas at the Burrow

Christmas was approaching and the grounds received their first dusting of snow just a week before the holidays. For the first time since I started Hogwarts, my mother was forcing me to come home for the holidays. All the Weasleys at Hogwarts; me, Simone and her sister Evelyn, our cousin Jimmy and his brother George were all spending the Holidays at the Burrow with our family. This meant that I now had to face my mother and ask her about Harry Potter.

I had gone over my options; make some stuff up, try and find a book with information, but talking to my mother was the most sensible of these choices. Honestly, I was scared. I knew why my family never mentioned their close relationship with Harry Potter; my grandfather and Uncle George were killed in a the battle against Voldemort, trying to help Harry Potter. There was also the small detail of my father. The only time I heard my fathers' name mentioned it went right along with some mention of Harry Potter.

I only saw Eamon Finnigan once besides History of Magic class, where he sat quietly in the corner, his head bent low over paper, scribbling furiously.

He came up to me during breakfast one day before the holidays.

"Wisteria." I heard solemnly from behind me. I turned around to see Eamon standing there laden down with bags and an armful of books.

"Yeah?" I said, looking him over.

"I'm leaving for the holidays early. I just wanted to remind you to get as much information on Harry Potter as you can. We should probably take notes, so we can compare them."

"Er...okay, right. So, I'll see you after the holidays then, and we can look at our notes or whatever. Alright then, Happy Christmas!"

He blinked at me.

"It's not Christmas." he said puzzled.

"Right...Bye."

The Burrow was packed. Grandma, Bill, Fleur, Simone and Evelyn, Charlie, Fred, Angelina, Jimmy, George and their little sister, Sabrina, Aunt Ginny, my mother, and me, all arrived on the same day for Christmas Eve dinner. The small house was bursting with smells and sights. A large bird was roasting in the oven, as my grandmother bustled about trying to put out the flaming potatoes which were causing seven-year-old Sabrina who has pyrophobia to have a panic attack. Jimmy and George were rigging up some sort of trap on the stairs, whilst Fleur was breaking up a fight between Simone and Evelyn, who both wanted the blue nail polish. The fuzzy sounding radio was blasting a rocking Weird Sisters' Christmas Song as Angelina, Charlie, Fred and my mother were all still crowded around Sabrina trying to calm her down. The only person besides me who didn't seem to be involved in all this chaos was my aunt, Ginny.

I had heard that she didn't used to be like this, quiet and reserved. According to my mother, she used to be quite the vivacious heart-breaker in her years at Hogwarts. I had always wanted to ask her about it, but if there was any more dysfunction in my family, it would explode.

I spotted her in the corner, her arms wrapped around her knees in the puffy armchair where she sat. I fell onto the sofa next to her, instantly muffling the chaos of the kitchen.

"Hi Aunt Ginny!" I greeted her, hoping to coax a smile out of her pursed lips. All I got in return was a small closed mouth smile.

"Oh, Wisteria. How are you?" She said in a tired sounding voice.

"Okay." I nodded. "Erm, Aunt Ginny...I have to write-"

I stopped myself there. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. No, I definitely should not ask Aunt Ginny about Harry Potter.

"I have to write down the lyrics to that song that I really like!" I blurted out quickly, laughing at myself on the inside.

"Er, Really. What song?" She asked.

"That one. That one that's playing." I said, thinking as fast as I could.

"Oh. I don't know the lyrics, sorry Wisty."

I cringed at the nickname my family had christened me with and quickly got off the couch.

"Well, that's okay. I think I'm going to go help out in the kitchen." I said, eagerly leaving the awkward scene behind.

Although, the kitchen was not much better. Sabrina had stopped crying but now was demanding a chocolate frog. The stove was no longer on fire, but my Grandmothers' floral kitchen apron was. I found my mother leaning over a whole bunch of paperwork at the scrubbed wooden table.

"Hey Mum." I said, coming up to her.

"Oh there you are. I wondered where you had gone." She said, but did not take her eyes off the paper.

I sat down next to her and watched her scribble furiously. Lately her job trying to teach squibs magic had been keeping her more than occupied. I figured this was a good time to bring up my writing project.

"I have to write this really long paper for History Of Magic." I said.

"Oh really?" She asked, her eyes still not grazing.

"Mmmmhhhhmmm. And I have to work with a partner. Eamon Finnegan. " I said sourly.

"Finnegan. I went to school with Seamus Finnegan. Is he related?" My mother said, chewing the tip of her quill.

"I think that's his son, mother." I stated the obvious. "But anyway, the paper is on-"

I lowered my voice.

"-Harry Potter."

She finally looked up.

"Really?" She said in a tone of voice which was meant to sound casual but sounded oh-so fake.

I nodded. "Soooo...I was wondering if I could ask everyone some questions..."

My mother shook her head.

"No, Wisteria. That is a bad idea. He was my best friend, he broke Ginny's heart, he was very close to everyone in this family and you don't want to stir up those emotions again, okay?."

I sighed but nodded. This was going to be harder than I thought.

Half an hour later and we were all finally sitting together at the table, surrounded by food and family. Sure, the potatoes were badly burnt and the gravy a strange consistency, and Sabrina was still sobbing because she didn't get her chocolate frog, but we were together. Except not really. It was times like this that I thought about the missing pieces of the family. The ones that died before I was born; Uncle George and my grandfather, and the ones that simply were not there; my father. Where was he? What was he doing? Why wasn't he here?

"Who wants gravy!" My grandmother shouted as Evelyn, George and Jimmy all reached for it at the same time. Obviously, the start of a fight.

"Hey everyone!" Simone called suddenly from her spot near the head of the long table. We all looked at her.

"I have to write an essay for History of Magic and could use some information. Can I interview you?" she asked plainly.

What a clever way to go about it, Simone. Plain and simple. Until...

"Aunt Ginny. You went out with Harry Potter, right?"

Our red-headed aunt choked on her wine and looked from Simone to me and back again. Drat. She always knows.

"Yes." she said simply, taking a large bite of bread.

My mother coughed loudly and nudged my grandmother, who said suddenly:

"Pie! That's what I forgot! I forgot to take out the pie! Simone, darling would you-"

Simone would have nothing to do with the pie.

"So what happened? Did he just...die?" Even I flinched at this unflattering comment.

"You know what Simone? This really isn't the time or place..." Uncle Bill stated clearly to his daughter. This only encouraged her further.

"Why?" she asked puzzled. "Why don't we talk about him? Hey, why don't we ever talk about Wisteria's dad-"

"That is quite enough young lady." It was my grandmother, an otherwise always kind woman. If she was yelling at Simone, she meant it.

The rest of the dinner was silent sans the food talk; pass the salt or spoon me some potatoes. No conversation went down, and I knew nothing more about Harry Potter.

When I returned to Hogwarts after Christmas break, I was empty handed, and so I most certainly did not want to see Eamon Finnegan. Unfortunately, I did. First day back.

"Wisteria!" he called, almost excitedly from across the Gryffindor Common Room. I shrank down slightly in the puffy chair where I sat by the fire. He found me anyway.

"I got loads of information for our essay! You?" He said.

"Well...about that, I erm, well, it just...it doesn't work. I can't ask my family. They won't bring him up."

He looked at me like I was crazy.

"What are you talking about? My mum gave me loads of information! She said your dad was like his best friend! Why didn't you ask him?"

I bit my lip. "My dad isn't here." I said simply, probably much to simply.

"What do you mean? When is he going to be back?"

"Never. I mean, probably never, I...I've never met him. He left us." I said, not daring to look into his eyes.

"Oh..." He said in the awkward absence of words.

I nodded.

"Yeah so...I really have to erm...go to the library and finish doing something so..."

I quickly got up and ran out of the portrait hole to the library, because, where else was I going to go? Eamon Finnigan was bothering me. This whole essay project was bothering me. I didn't want to know about Harry Potter and I most certainly do not want to know about my father. There. Done. Never think about it again.

Unfortunately that was not a choice, since the next morning when I went down to breakfast, something was different. As I entered the great hall, a mass of heads turned towards me. Was there something in my teeth? I walked briskly over to my usual spot near Simone and sat down.

"What was that for?" I whispered harshly in her ear.

She gave me a solemn look and handed me a Daily Prophet. The next few moment was a blur.

It was my mum's face on the cover, and in the corner of the article was a smaller picture of a face I recognized not from seeing before, but from seeing in the mirror everyday. It was man with a round face, freckles, red hair and blue eyes. It was my father and I knew it.

"-what happened?" I asked Simone breathlessly. For some reason my ability to read had stopped functioning.

"Your mum is missing. They suspect it has something to do with your dad."

I couldn't breathe. My mum was missing...but my dad was missing. My mum was always there, she was always in my life and suddenly this all turns around and-

"Wisteria Weasley." I turned around to see the old Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, standing at the entrance of the great hall and giving me a look of scared courage.

The whole hall was staring again, as I stood up, my face and ears turning scarlet, and approached Professor McGonagall. She didn't say anything to me, only grabbed me by the shoulder and started steering me towards her office. I looked back and caught a last glance of the great hall, and Eamon Finnigan staring at me.


	3. Shrieking Shack and the Sunset

Professor McGonagall was still gripping my left shoulder as she steered me into her dimly lit office. The first thing I spotted as she pushed me into a stiff armchair was the sorting hat, sitting high atop a shelf in what looked to be a peaceful slumber. It must be nice being a hat.

Professor McGonagall sat down at her desk and, folding her hands, stared me down.

"Wisteria. Do you know what has happened to your mother?"

I wasn't sure why she was asking me this.

I nodded. "She is missing..."

Professor McGonagall cut me off.

"The Ministry of Magic suspects foul play involving your father. But, Wisteria, I knew both of your parents and this is most certainly unlike them. Your father may have been a trouble maker, but he would never leave his only daughter. I've been suspecting this ever since before you were born -you musn't tell anyone this- but I think the Ministry knows exactly where your father is. "

I wasn't sure how to respond to this.

"So...what does this mean for my mum?" I asked timidly.

"I believe that if we locate your father, we will find your mother, and to locate you father we need the ministry's cooperation, and heavens forbid that could take years."

I was more confused then ever.

"They've known-"

"Yes, I'm fairly confident they've known, but now is not the time for questions, Wisteria. I'm afraid that if we want to find your mother, you're going to have to stay out of it, do you understand me?"

I nodded.

"Now, go back to your classes and leave this up to the Ministry."

I nodded and left, but going over the conversation on my way down the corridors, I still did not understand. And now more than anything, I wanted to find my father.

I needed a partner in crime, someone who knew their stuff. Someone who knew about Lord Voldmort, my father, and who knew what the Ministry knew. Now the trouble was, the only person I knew of was Luna Lovegood.

I had first met Luna Lovegood at the Burrow one summer when I was around six years old. I remember liking her right away. She was about my mothers age, but much more fun. I remember seeing all the grown-ups sitting around a table and drinking tea over intelligent conversation- but Luna Lovegood was out in the field, catching fireflies with her two young children, one who was about my age.

Jenny Longbottom became one of my good friends during my first year at Hogwarts. She was like her mother, a dreamer, although her voice was not quite as iridescent. Then, the year that my cousin Evelyn started Hogwarts was the year that Serena Longbottom, Jenny's younger sister, started school. Serena was much more like her father, Neville, according to the stories my mother told. She was shy and timid and clumsy but incredibly sweet. With these new friendships, Luna Lovegood and her family seemed to be around my house a lot.

That was when I learned that behind Luna Lovegoods' dreamy and playful exterior, by day she did a dangerous job. She worked in the Department of Mysteries. Obviously she was not an unspeakable, but I knew that if she revealed anything about her work she would most certainly be fired.

And that was the problem. If I could gain the help of Luna Lovegood, I could find my father, maybe even finish my stupid essay in time. But she could not help me. At least, not yet.

It took a whole day for me to fully realize the horrible truth about my mum. It was the day after the news first apppeared in the Daily Prophet and it was a Saturday, a Hogsmeade trip. I woke up early, too early in fact. The sun had not yet risen and the four other girls in my dorm were fast asleep. I stayed in my bed for five long minutes, wishing myself to fall back into a peaceful slumber, but it did not happen. Giving up, I got out of bed and decided to get dressed for the Hogsmeade trip.

After I washed my freckled face and brushed my reddish hair I descended down the spiral staircase into the Common Room, where I sat down into my favorite armchair near the burned out fire.

"Good Morning."

"Wha-" I jumped, looking around. Of course, it was Eamon Finnigan. Sitting in the corner behind me with his stack of loose papers and a quill.

"Er...morning." I said, turning to face him. There was an awkward silence. I had to think of something to say. I spotted his quill, poised in mid-air, ready to write.

"Are you working on the essay?" I asked.

"Nope. Just writing. But I do have a lot of information that you might want to know." He said.

"About Harry Potter?" I asked.

"Obviously. " He said, raising his eyebrows.

I pulled a chair over to where he sat and looked over his notes. He had the same basic information that the library books did. Harry Potter's birth-date, death-date, when he went to Hogwarts... I felt like this was never enough. I knew then that I somehow had to ask Aunt Ginny.

"Wisteria, I heard about your mother," he said, "I'm sorry. Are you worried?"

I didn't know. Was I worried? Of course I was scared and wanted my mum back. Without her I had nobody. But somehow the fact that her disappearance had something to do with my father made me want them to both be found.

"You know what? I want her to be found, of course...but I'm not that worried. I just really...I really want to meet my father." I said finally.

"My mum told me she dated your dad in her 6th year, but he was a really bad kisser. " He said suddenly.

Somehow, this was really funny. I burst out laughing.

"Really?" I asked through my giggles.

He nodded. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll meet him someday."

"I hope so," I smiled, "Oh, by the way, I was going to go and visit Luna Lovegood-she's Jenny Longbottom's mother-during the Hogsmeade trip today. They live in Hogsmeade and I was hoping she could help me find some information on my mum and dad, but she also must know loads about Harry Potter. Do you want to come?"

"Er, well, I don't usually go to Hogsmeade...but if it's for the project then-"

"Great!" I said. "I'm going to go with some of my friends but how about I meet you at The Hogs Head at one?"

"Erm...okay, see you then. You'd better bring parchment and a-"

"Right!" I said back at him, for I was already halfway up the stairs.

Up in my dormitory I found my four roomates running arounds getting dressed, brushing hair and pulling on socks.

"Wisteria, are you coming to Hogsmeade with us?" Simone called to me from across the room.

"Yeah, I am. Well only for the morning. I have to...do work for my essay later." I said, refraining from mentioning my meeting with Eamon, even though I felt a little bad doing it.

Hogsmeade was rather dull. The beautiful white snow of the early winter had melted into ankle deep piles littering the street, creating puddles of muddy slush. A consistent drizzle fell from the overcast sky as Hogwarts students dashed from store to store, covering their heads with cloaks and, for the more advanced student, water-repellent charms.

I ditched Simone and the girls from my dorm quicker than I had planned to. As the morning precipitation fell, we found solace and warmth at Honeydukes. It was fun at first; we filled bags to the top with fat gummy candies, Fizzing Whizbees, long Licorice Wands and pulsing Chocolate Frogs. Running out of the shop and through the thick falling droplets, Simone called to us, with a devious smile: "Who wants to go to the Shrieking Shack?"

The other girls giggled and ran faster, but I stopped, letting the rain run down my hair and looked at the desolate looking mansion in the distance.

"No. Way. Not happening!" I told Simone, but she was already far up ahead, and I was dripping. Run.

I stopped with a skid in the mud at the dilapidated wooden gate. The neglected shack tilted uneasily on its keel atop the hill. A foreboding moan echoed softly towards us.

"I'm not going any closer." I said firmly, but calmly, taking a Licorice Wand out of the overflowing bag of sweets.

"Oh yes we are," Simone said, "it'll be fun!"

I shook my head, biting into the sweet candy. I heard someone whisper my name from behind me.

I spun my body around to face the other three girls, and with a loud: "Go!" I found myself in a puddle of mud, on the other side of the fence dividing me and the Shrieking Shack

"Simone!" I said scrambling about. "What the bloody hell was that for!"

"Oh, come on Wisteria, you never want to do anything fun. We're just trying to get you to do something cool for once."

I glared at her, wiping thick mud off the back of my thighs and elbows. My head was fuming with things to say, but maybe Simone was right, so I turned my heel, almost slipping again in the mud, and walked off towards the village. I was glad it was raining, because as hard as I tried to hold it in, brackish tears quickly flooded my eyes. I didn't have far to walk, since the Hogs Head was at the edge of Hogsmeade; as soon as I enter the small seedy bar, cold water dripping off my muddy trousers, I saw that Eamon was already there. I glimpsed at my wrist-watch; it was only noon. He was early as well.

I collapsed onto the wooden bar stool across from him, making an instant puddle on my seat.

"You're wet." he said.

I nodded. "You're not."

"Umbrella." he grinned. I noticed he was writing again, a long sheet of parchment covered with tiny, looping calligraphy.

"What are you always writing?" I asked, wondering why I had never asked before.

"I'm recording my life story, as it happens." he said proudly, "I want to write my autobiography when I'm really old, every second of my life, in a book."

I opened my mouth and quickly shut it. Who would want to read about Eamon Finnigan? I though to myself, but it seemed incredibly mean so I just ejaculated:

"That's interesting. Does that mean I'm in it?"

He looked startled by this question, but subsequently said "Yes."

Silence echoed through the dingy bar, broken only by the strange hacking cough of a wizard by the hearth and the clinking of glasses as the barman cleaned.

"I was going to wait until it stopped raining but, maybe we should go now." I suggested.

He handed me his closed black umbrella and stuffed his "life story" into his bag. As we were departing the Hogs Head, the umbrella sprung open and got stuck in the door. We left into the rain, laughing, under a large black umbrella.

The Lovegoods lived up the main road to Hogsmeade, the farthest away from the Shrieking Shack one can get. Their cozy home was nestled back aways from the road among a grove of trees. As we walked up the stone path to their door, I realized I had no idea what I was going to say, and began to panic.

"Are you sure this is the right house?" I asked.

"What are you asking me for?" Eamon said, "You're the one who supposedly knows where we're going!"

"Right, of course this is the right house." I said, reaching to knock on the solid white door. The muted sound of the rain mocked me, falling on the umbrella, as if it were trying to tell me what to say.

The door swung open. "Why hello. Somebody has augmented."

"Er...Hi, Mrs. Lovegood. Sorry to be such a bother, but I was wondering if we could, er...ask you some questions? It's for an essay."

"Questions." she blinked. "What about?"

"Harry Potter."

She looked us over, never-blinking, until finally she said pensively: "Come in, Wisteria." and pushed us through her door.

Luna Lovegoods home was one of the oddest houses I had ever been in. A mixture of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw memorabilia decorated the walls, along with obscure family portraits of the family with the Great Pyramids and the Great Wall of China. Souvenirs such as singing keys and rainbow-plume birds sat on spindle legged tables, and a pile containing ten pairs of shoes sat in the middle of the carpet, even though only four people lived there. A desk sat in the corner, covered in parchment and ink and a magnifying glass and odd objects that made whistling noises. Luna led us into a tiny, sunlit room and sat us down on a low, bright orange, lumpy sofa.

"This is Eamon Finnigan. We're working on the essay together." I introduced. Luna nodded.

"Seamus Finnigan is you father?" Luna asked curiously, he small voice squeaking as she trailed off.

"Yes. Did you know him?" Seamus returned.

Luna nodded. "I did."

There was a ringing silence interrupted only by the whistling objects on the corner desk.

"Luna, what do you know about my mum and dads disappearance?"

Luna turned to me and stared into my eyes, her crystal blue pools swirling around an enlarged pupil. She shook her head, and I knew my expectations were too high. On this subject, she was an Unspeakable. She bore her eyes into mine until I got the message. Then she turned to Eamon and smiled.

"Do you want to know about Harry Potter?" she asked.

"Yes."

She took a deep breath, and began.

"Harry was...one of those people who never put himself first. He was always kind to me. Always..."

"Right, so, granted, I don't have any further data about my parents, but we got some pretty good stuff on Potter, don't you think?"

We were walking the high road though Hogsmeade on our way back to Hogwarts, after spending an entire afternoon learning about Harry Potter. Eamon held his spider black notes on multiple pieces of parchment and looked them over.

"Yeah, your right. We could start the essay now." He said.

"Well, that's good, seeing as it's due next week!"

"Yeah." he said, ruffling through his notes, "How long does this thing have to be, I mean, Binns is talking three, four feet right? We've got like seven here, do you think-"

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" I ejaculated.

"What?" he asked looking around.

"Would you take a look at that..." I breathed, pointing at the magnificent castle which had just revealed itself in the distance. The sun was just setting, and the sky was ablaze with a spectacular chromaticity of butter yellow, peachy fuzz orange and bruised violet. The rays of the butter-ball sun reached out, stroking the highest turrets with their pure crystalline finger-tips. It looked as though it were about to explode, until the sun took its final gulp and shrunk behind the shadow of the castle. The bruised violet dusk set on our home.

"Wow. It's...beautiful." Eamon whispered. I nodded, and we watched the last of the suns hues vanish.

"Come on, we better get in before it's dark." I said.

"Right." Eamon exhaled, following me as I dashed off in a run towards the castle.


	4. Of Myrtle and Mysteries

The morning after Hogsmeade was disastrous, to say the least. It was a sunny morning, birds were chirping, and a tiny tawny owl was pecking boisterously at my window.

"Bloody hell . . . " I muttered, dragging my body out of my warm and comfortable bed into the harsh, chill air. As I crossed over to my window, I noticed that my roommates' beds were all nicely made and there was no living being in sight, besides this bloody bird. I opened the window to shut it up and it came flying in like nothing had never been so urgent before in its life. The tawny owl dropped the letter on my bed and flew back out the open window, before I had time to shoo it away myself.

The letter was addressed to me in a slightly messy, depressing handwriting that I thought I recognized.

_Wisteria,_

_I'm sorry about what happened over the holidays. I heard that you and Simone needed some information on Harry Potter. It is still really hard for me to talk about, but I want to help you guys. I know History of Magic can be unbearable. Let me tell you about Harry . . ._

The rest of the page was blotched with a few tears. I read on.

_I remember the first time I saw him. My brother, your father, Ron, was going away to his first year at Hogwarts and I was going to be the only Weasley child left home the entire school year. I was very upset about it and begged mum and dad to let me go to Hogwarts, but when we were at Platform nine and three quarters, we saw him, Harry Potter. He was just standing all alone there and then he asked us how to get onto the platform, and I was entranced. I knew who he was._

_The next year, when I started Hogwarts, I had a massive crush on him, but he was to busy trying to save Hogwarts to notice. By the end of the year, Harry had saved my life._

_Throughout my second, third and fourth years I separated myself from him. Your mother told me to get over him, move on, and so I did. By fifth year, I got to hang out with them more: Harry, your mum, and your dad. They started the D.A.; Dumbledore's Army. Harry gave the most amazing speech when we started that. He told us that we could do it and we believed him, because most of us knew that he fought Voldemort just that summer. I went with them to the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic that year. It was incredible. There was a prophecy room and a brain room, and eventually we faced Voldemort, together._

_By sixth year, I was in trouble. I was falling in love with him again. It sounds silly now, I know it does. I was only fifteen. But the good thing this time was that he liked me, too. Before the end of that year, he finally admitted it; he kissed me in front of the entire common room after a winning Quidditch game. I was speechless that day. I couldn't believe it had happened. My happiness was short-lived, because three months later he was fighting Voldemort again and Albus Dumbledore had died in the process this time. He told me we_ _couldn't see each other anymore because he was worried Voldemort would come after me._

_That summer he spent some time at the Burrow. The war was full on, and there were already casualties. This was when your Uncle Bill and Fleur got married. At the party after the wedding, we learned that the ministry was under full control of Voldemort. Harry and your parents left that day. I knew where they were going. They were going to get Voldemort's horcruxes. It's gruesome, Wisteria, and I shouldn't be telling you this but here it is. A horcrux is an object which holds a bit of ones soul. Voldemort split his soul into 7 pieces, 6 of them in objects, the last in his body._

_Well, Harry knew that he had to destroy all the objects before he could destroy Voldemort once and for all, and that's where they were going. Unfortunately, I was not of age and could not go with them, but even if I could I doubt Harry would have allowed it. I returned to Hogwarts that year, with Severus Snape as headmaster. It was awful, nothing like Hogwarts was before, or it is now. They had Death Eaters as teachers who used disobedient kids as dummies to practice the Cruciatus curse on._

Wait a second. This was very interesting and all, but my mind went out of the letter for a moment to look around the room. The beds were made. Everyone was gone. It's Monday. Bloody hell!

I jumped around the room clumsily putting on my uniform: skirt, shirt, sweater, robes, socks. I grabbed my books and... Shoes, I forgot shoes! I put on my shoes, grabbed my bag, threw my ink and quill into my bag, grabbed some books and stuffed the letter into my pocket as I ran down the stairs, out the common room. The corridor was empty, thank heavens, but one meeting with Mrs. Norris could get me in big trouble.

Where was I going anyway? History of Magic. Great. Down four more flights of stairs, three corridors, two ghosts and past the headmistress office...and a partridge in a pear tree. I laughed at myself briefly and then focused my attention on running. Wait, there's the door there! Just a bit further and just I as ran into the door- ring! Smack! Class was over and I had just ran into the large mob that was my classmates, who gave me a funny look and kept on walking.

Humiliated by my tactics once again, I sank back against the cold stone wall and clutched the letter in my pocket. I had potions next and it didn't sound all that inviting. So I figured, after screwing up already, why not screw up the whole day?

My plans for 'screw-up day' were to find a place to hide and read the rest of this letter, and then wing it from there. I thought about going out to the grounds, but I figured someone would see me through the windows. I thought about going back to the common room, which sounded incredibly boring, but it was all I could come up with so I went with it. I trudged along the corridors, re-tracing my running steps from earlier only at a pace ten times slower than a slug. Then about a staircase away from the safety of the common room, I heard the pitter-patter of little cat feet and the soft meow that was Mrs. Norris. I jumped through the next door I could find and hid inside.

After waiting breathlessly with my ear pressed to the door, I was sure that Mrs. Norris had left. I let out the long breath I had been holding in and turned around. I was in a desolate looking bathroom with slimy walls and a small flood on the floor. I didn't even know there was a bathroom on this floor, but oh well, it would have to do. I locked myself into the nearest stall and pulled the letter out of my pocket to continue reading.

_Eventually we couldn't take it anymore, and Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and I started up Dumbledore's Army again, the resistance movement from my fourth year. We fought back against the Death Eater teachers and tried to steal the sword of Gryffindor from Snape's office, for we knew Harry needed it. The plan did not work, and Hogwarts became so bad that over Easter holidays, mum made me stay with the family. We stayed in hiding with most of our family, Luna, who was being hunted for association with her fathers newspaper, the Quibbler, and Dean Thomas, my former boyfriend who was in danger because he was Muggle-born._

I looked up suddenly as I heard a small splash coming from the stall next to me. Was it just my imagination or was someone sobbing? I was careful not to move or reveal myself as I slowly bent down to look under the slimy lavatory wall, but there were no feet visible. I was puzzled at this crux, so I left the tiny stall and called out, "Hello? Anyone there?"

The sobbing stopped with a squeaky halt and somebody's voice called back.

"Who's there? What do you want?"

"Er...I'm Wisteria Weasley. Who are you?"

I waited for the reply, but just heard another splash and a loud wail and then someone came through the lavatory door! It took me a second to realize that I was dealing with an imprint of a departed soul.

"You're a-a ghost!" I sputtered through my surprise.

"Yes," said the ghost. It was a young girl, perhaps the same age as me, with an outdated looking Ravenclaw uniform, dark pigtails and glasses. "I'm Myrtle. Moaning Myrtle."

"Hi, Myrtle." I said uncertainly.

"What've you got there?" she said, coming up close behind me to read the letter clutched in my left hand. "Harry? I knew a Harry once, oh, he was lovely. He was in love with me."

"Really? Er...well this is about Harry Potter, but I doubt you knew him, he was er...after your time-"

"Harry Potter! The boy with the scar? No that was him! He promised he'd come and visit me in my u-bend, but he never did." She said with a pout. "Him and his bushy haired girlfriend and that red-headed boy were always in here one year."

"Hey! That was my mum and dad! You knew them?"

The ghostly girl nodded, "Quite odd, that bunch was. Whatever happened to them?"

"Well, Harry Potter died," I said stonily, "And my father, Ron was taken hostage soon after."

"What about the bushy girl with the over large teeth?" She asked with a smirk.

"My mother was doing fine until she was kidnaped, presumably by the Ministry, last month." I told her, with a twinge of pain.

Myrtle dramatized a gasp and said, "Why on earth would the Ministry of Magic kidnap an innocent woman?"

"I dunno. But I would like to find out."

Myrtle stared at me and then spun in the air once. "Well, Wisteria Weasley, I can tell you one thing. Serena Longbottom? Do you know her? Little first year, clumsy, blonde hair?"

I nodded, listening intently.

"Serena's mother in an unspeakable in the Ministry." Myrtle said.

"Yeah, well, I knew that!" I told her angrily, hoping for some more useful information.

"Wait!" she shouted aggressively, "Serena comes in to visit me sometimes. Tells me her petty first year woes. But one thing I did notice, is that Serena Longbottom wears a rather large key on a string around her neck. This key, I recognize it, because I've seen it on a student before, when your parents were here. You see, Wisteria, it's tradition for Department of Ministry workers to keep their master key safe around the necks of their small children."

'What does that have to do with me?" I shouted after her, and with a cackle of glee that faded into a wail, Moaning Myrtle flew back down into her toilet. I stood stunned in a dripping, mucky bathroom.

"Well, thanks." I said, an instant before turning to run straight to the common room.

As I entered through the portrait hole, I remembered that I was supposed to be in Potions right about now. My worried subdued when I realized that the scarlet room was empty, so I flung my body onto my favorite sofa and pulled out Aunt Ginny's letter again.

_Then, it was time. I knew it, I saw all my family and the Order of the Phoenix rallying the troops. There was a battle ensuing at Hogwarts, and even though I was underage, I wanted to fight. I wanted to help. We all gathered, the old D.A., and Harry told us the plan. He seemed to have one more horcrux to find._

_I wanted to help more than anything, but once the adults arrived, they forbade me to leave the Room of Requirement. But anyone knowing my character would not believe that(I would stay?), and they shouldn't have. As soon as I was alone, I escaped with the rest of the underage D.A. members and we joined the fight. It was difficult, curses flying everywhere, never knowing what was going to hit you or a friend. I deeply regret going out there, even though I'm glad I did, because during the battle a young man named Colin Creevey was killed._

_I felt incredibly guilty, for I had led him there myself, into the middle of the battle. I still think about him sometimes. He was very brave, such a Gryffindor. Anyway, while we were in battle, I don't know what was happening with Harry. But after half an hour, Hagrid returned with...with Harry's body. You have no idea the pain my heart went though when I saw him, and the worst part was, his death was in vain, for Voldemort was still at large, still alive._

_I still don't know what Harry did in his last few hours. The only people who really know are Voldemort's Death Eaters, and they're all gone or in hiding. While we were all grieving however, Neville Longbottom knew what he was doing. He destroyed the snake, the last horcrux, with the sword of Gryffindor, and then, just as swiftly, he stabbed Voldemort, and he was dead. Just like that. We couldn't believe it. But what I couldn't believe more, were the casualties we suffered. Not only Colin Creevey, but Remus Lupin and Tonks, who were new parents, my father Arthur and my brother Fred. There was a horrible gaping hole in my heart for years and years-there still is-for Fred and Dad and Harry and the sixty others we lost._

_Well, there's your story, Wisty. I hope you do well on the essay._

_All my love,_

_Aunt Ginny_

I looked up, my eyes blinking away tears, realizing that as emotional as it was, it still didn't bring me any closer to finding out what Harry Potter did in his final hours, and I wasn't about to go interview a Death Eater. Luckily for me, the common room was still empty. I wondered how much trouble I was going to be in for cutting class all day. I could just say I was sick. Then I'd have to go to the infirmary, and since I'm not really sick I could get into more trouble-

"Wisteria?"

I looked up at the small dreamy voice. It was Serena Longbottom, looking down at my with her wide protuberant eyes.

"Er...Hello Serena! What are you doing here?"

"I don't have a class right now. What are you doing here?"

"I...me either. Cool, right!"

Serena nodded, looked over the top of my letter to read it.

"Could I see that?" she asked, indicating the letter. I handed it to her reluctantly and watched her as she read it, her large eyes, zipping back and forth across the page like a typewriter. After a while I expected to here a 'ding' every time she went to the next line.

"I know where they are you know," said Serena, handing me back the paper.

"You know where who are?" I inquired.

"Your parents. And Harry Potter," she said, "I know where they are."

My eyes widened and it felt like my ears did too, thirsty for information.

"You do?"

Serena nodded, pulling at a thin silver chain around her neck. At the end of the chain, was a key, just like Moaning Myrtle had said.

"They're in the Department of Mysteries."


End file.
